


Lion's Share

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003), Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, April Showers Challenge 2011, Song Lyric Title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-18
Updated: 2003-10-18
Packaged: 2017-10-18 15:15:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Thorongil is unexpectedly detained in Minas Tirith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lion's Share

**Author's Note:**

> The title and inspiration for this fic comes from the song "Nothing From Something" by the Offspring.
> 
> This is all [](http://ashinae.livejournal.com/profile)[**ashinae**](http://ashinae.livejournal.com/) 's fault. Really. Much love goes to her and to [](http://helens78.livejournal.com/profile)[**helens78**](http://helens78.livejournal.com/) who gave a very helpful beta. Annoyance goes to computer that decided that it wanted to shut down and didn't remember that I *had* saved the fic, so more love goes to Helens for including the entire text of the fic in the e-mail reply, so I still had it.

  
There was something about the silence that permeated the darkness, making the shadows seem to come alive. It was cold and wet and there was never, never any light. He was chained to the wall and the only things he ever heard were his screams being absorbed by the thick grime on the stone walls.

And all he had were his memories.

They came mostly in flashes in his dreams. Denethor's cruel face as he pronounced his fate, the look of helplessness thrown his way by Lord Echthelion, the way the guards had been very careful not to harm their former captain as they brought him down to the dungeon and locked him in with obvious reluctance. Thorongil was here until he died and he knew that could be tragically far into the future.

A thousand years ago or ten he had grown up among the elves. He had had two brothers who turned out to be his uncles. He had fallen in love with a woman who turned out to be a sister and then an aunt. He had sought for answers among the trees, among the Riders, and then among his own people. All the answers he had found were stale bread thrown in once a day and water that seeped under the door when the Warden sloshed it on the floor for the prisoners. Thorongil licked it off along with the filth from the floor and counted himself lucky.

He couldn't remember his crime anymore. Denethor had made certain that it complied with all laws and only the pardon of the king could overturn the judgment.

Thorongil always laughed bitterly at that thought. He could have overturned Denethor's decree had he only consented to take the throne of his ancestors. No one could save him but himself. He had no heirs. Only upon positive proof of Thorongil's death would Halbarad become the Heir and Thorongil knew that Halbarad would resist taking that title for as long as was possible. The first Aragorn had been a twin and the legacy would only revert to that split in the line after Thorongil could no longer reap the benefits.

In another lifetime, it would have been amusing.

He lost track of time long ago. It was tedious work keeping track of days and weeks and after a year went by, he knew he was losing hope with every meal. So he stopped counting. The length of his beard and hair spoke of years, perhaps decades, and his fingernails had long become ragged from biting. He was gaunt and starved and always so cold.

Minas Tirith was no welcoming mother.

But he heard footsteps outside his door. He had forgotten so much, but he had never forgotten hope. All had abandoned him but his memories, but there was always hope.

It was then that the unspeakable happened.

The door opened.

Thorongil fainted.

\---

Boromir had discovered mention of the prisoner while perusing Denethor's old records. Only recently named to the office, Boromir understood that diligence would be the only key to acceptance by the nobles and populace. He was still young, having only seen nineteen winters. Boromir had anticipated a long career in the army, but that had been cut short one morning when his father never woke up. Poison was discovered in the cup and a man had hung for it.

A man from the lost kingdom of Arnor who had claimed to be avenging his king, a man who had apparently been slaughtered upon Denethor's order.

Such things excited men like his brother Faramir. Boromir would have none of superstitions. Gondor had no king. Gondor needed no king. To say that they had murdered their rightful ruler was to say that the Ancient Kings had cursed Gondor to never know peace unless under their mastery. But one steward had already died.

Boromir had known upon taking the title that his life would be increasingly under attack, but he had accepted it as one of the risks and had immediately named Faramir his heir. He had appointed new men into old positions and removed several counselors that refused to respect him. Boromir had done everything he was required to do, but he knew it would not be enough. He must be seen to grow into this role.

The transition had been slow and tedious but now, five months after Denethor's death, Boromir could begin to relax.

Thus had he discovered that he had one excess prisoner in his dungeons.

His father's records claimed that this man was a traitor, but traitors swung. He also failed to obey a direct order, though that direct order seemed to have been petty at best. One thing was clear, however. Denethor had not wanted this man retrieved.

The only record Boromir had found was a passing mention in Denethor's public diary and placed the man's incarceration to a time shortly before Boromir had been born. _'Midwinter - had Thorongil relegated to the dungeons in disgrace. Perhaps now Father will understand._

 _Dinner was unusually spicy tonight. -D.'_

No crimes were mentioned, which was unusual for Denethor. He liked to regale all audiences with tales of his exploits. But Boromir had never heard of a man named Thorongil and the guards he interrogated knew nothing and would not deviate from that blatant lie.

So Boromir had decided to investigate. Taking Faramir and Theodred, he had descended into the bowels of the Citadel to discover not a hero but a naked man passed out on the floor, a man who looked like he had no more than ten years on Boromir.

That was when Faramir began to get itchy. He came to Boromir at all hours, showing him lines in different texts, explaining that this man was the reason their father had been killed. This man, an old soldier from the looks of his scars, was their uncrowned sovereign. Boromir only scoffed. He did not believe in such things.

Until he had Thorongil sitting across from him, looking regal despite the two decades he had spent chained to a wall. Only then had Boromir begun to believe. He had granted easily Thorongil's request for leave to walk outside among the trees once more and had not been surprised to discover him gone.

And, despite Faramir's pleadings, Boromir had insisted no watch be sent after him. He would let their king go until he was ready to return.

But he knew he would forever hope for that day.

\---

Aragorn returned to Minas Tirith after nine years wandering the wilds, communing once again with Middle Earth and becoming reacquainted with his kinsmen. All agreed that they could no longer wait. What had happened once could easily happen again and none of the Dunedain would risk it. Aragorn had sent messengers to retrieve heirlooms and proof of his ancestry as well as penning a short note to Arwen explaining his fate and apologizing for how he must now abandon his childhood hopes. All had been made ready and Aragorn steeled himself to return.

Aragorn came accompanied by an army. He had fond memories of the young, flustered Steward who had freed him and had certain plans for the boy that had nothing to do with revenge. Halbarad's arms had been welcoming, but he had a family now and Aragorn understood his kinsman's responsibilities. Halbarad had wed out of guilt that his chieftain had not, but he had grown to truly love his wife. Hildebrand understood that her husband's loyalty was always first to his liege-lord but Aragorn would not interfere between a man and his wife. It wasn't appropriate.

The army surrounded the great wall and camped. Aragorn had his tent pitched and walked weaponless to the gates and asked to be escorted to the steward. The threat was evident but never spoken of. What could not be taken with words would be taken by force. But Aragorn foresaw no problems. He had spent much of those lost twenty years planning on how to retake his destiny to the last intricate detail and seeing the steward quickly kneel as Aragorn entered the room was merely icing.

The coronation took place the next day and Aragorn took Boromir to bed the following night. The man proved vivacious if not experienced and was endlessly inventive. The brother was delightful as well. Aragorn looked forward to having them both prove their devotion.

It was more than petty revenge, but oh was it sweet.


End file.
